Funky G from NYC feat. Black Sea Devil From Tower

White Clothes at Asoke Station

Compressor Cypher — a Bangkok commute, a BTS sky train, white coveralls, mystery dust, and a station that got too personal. First-person travel story. Verify facts, prioritize safety, check the exit.

“WHITE CLOTHES AT ASOKE STATION (COMPRESSOR CYPHER)”
Funky G from NYC feat. Black Sea Devil From Tower
(a Bangkok commute, a BTS sky train, a compressor, white coveralls, and a station that got too personal)

Real talk: this is a traveler’s narrative set to rhyme. I’m telling what I saw, what I felt, and what made me move. Suspicious does not automatically mean proven — but your body knows before your brain catches up. Check the exit. Check the air. Document it.

[INTRO — spoken, low beat, BTS rumble, air hiss, footsteps]

Funky G
BK to the Tower. Two mics. One ocean. No label. No cap.

Black Sea Devil
You know what I mean, man.

Funky G
Nah, Devil — tonight it’s a Bangkok story. Deadass.
BTS. Asoke. White clothes. Compressor. Mystery dust.
Say less. I’m takin’ you through the exit.

PART I — THE COMMUTE

[VERSE 1 — FUNKY G]

Check it — I’m out in Bangkok, tryna get my brain right,
BTS sky train, from my apartment to the night.
ไปเรียนภาษาอังกฤษ — yeah, I’m goin’ study English,
Language school downtown, tryna turn my speech to rich.

Sukhumvit line hummin’, hot air, phone-glow,
Hop off at Asoke — สถานีอโศก — you already know.
Timbs on Thai concrete, mad crowd, no drama,
Just a BK boy tryna learn a little grammar.

[VERSE 2 — BLACK SEA DEVIL, confused]

(long pause, wind on the mic)

Hold up — a train? In the air? On a rail in the sky?
G, on my coast we got boats, a rock, and a why.
Sky train? That’s a mall escalator talkin’ to me,
Asoke? I don’t know that name, I don’t know that sea.

You left a cloud-train just to learn how to speak?
That’s city-man sickness, G — I just walk, I just creep.

[PRE-HOOK — FUNKY G]

(laughs)

A thousand years on a tower, one road, one tide —
That’s why the city got a secret it can’t hide.

[HOOK — BOTH]

Asoke, Asoke, first floor, same flight,
Construction by the exit, white clothes in the light.
One breathes sky train, one breathes the sea,
Devil don’t know the station — he don’t know what I seen.

Air hit like a spray can, dust hit like a truck —
Asoke, Asoke — you don’t stay, you duck.

PART II — THE FIRST AIR

[VERSE 3 — FUNKY G]

So I’m tryna exit, right? ปวดหัว comin’ slow,
But the stairs got a story that the blueprint don’t show.
First-floor level, scaffolds, plastic, and a man step out,
WHITE coveralls — head to toe — like he part of the route.

No tool in his hand, but a compressor hummin’ loud,
Then he aim it at me — high-pressure air through the crowd.
ยิง, ยิง — that jet hit my face, my chest, my neck,
Not a breeze, not a draft — a blast, direct, no check.

Ears ring, eyes water, chest go “what is this?”
BK don’t fold, but I’m already ticked.

[VERSE 4 — BLACK SEA DEVIL, reactin’]

A man in white, no reason, blowin’ air in your face?
G, up on the tower that’s just wind in the wrong place.
But you say it felt wrong — like the pressure had a plan?

(quiet)
…Aight. Keep talkin’, G. I’m listenin’, man.

[VERSE 5 — FUNKY G, the truck]

So I step back, and that’s when I clock what’s under my feet —
A box truck parked low where the concrete meet.
Under the van — fridge motors, wired, set,
Second compressor sprayin’ high-pressure air at my head.

Two sources, one target, and the target was me,
Headache settlin’ in, vision swimmin’ — on God, G.
So I move — different exit — I ain’t stayin’ to find
What a construction site want with a stranger’s mind.

No cap, I don’t duel the unknown,
If the air got a name, I’m leavin’ the zone.

[BRIDGE — DEVIL, beat drops to half-time]

(stone set down)

So white clothes spray you, and a truck spray you too,
And your head start to crack like the barometric blew.
G… on my coast a volcano make your chest go tight,
But a man doin’ that? That’s a different kinda night.

PART III — THE SECOND EXIT

[VERSE 6 — FUNKY G, the cleaner]

So I hit the next exit, catch a breath, tryna stay cool,
And who’s already there — waitin’ by the station pool?
A man in cleaner clothes — vest, mop, the whole uniform,
Lookin’ like staff — but he ain’t on the staff list norm.

’Cause the second I pass him, he puff — a cloud, a pffft,
Dust at my direction — that ain’t cleanin’, that’s a whiff.
White clothes, grey dust — two exits, same scheme,
And I’m standin’ there thinkin’: is this real, or a dream?

[VERSE 7 — FUNKY G, the ask]

’Cause it looked like a compressor, a truck, a mop man,
Or it looked like cover — I don’t know what I saw, man.
Was it construction? Or somebody dressed as crew?
White clothes build a story that a cleaner can hide in too.

(beat)
I don’t claim what I can’t prove, but my body wrote the page:
headache, dust, pressure, fear — that’s a travel cage.
So I’m tellin’ you straight, no cap, no flex:
I left that station, G — ’cause you don’t argue with a threat.

[VERSE 8 — BLACK SEA DEVIL, the turn]

(quiet, beat settles)

So it looked like a job site, and it wasn’t a job site,
And a man in white clothes hugged a story in plain sight.
G, up on my tower the danger got a name — the sea, the cold,
But yours got a costume, and a costume never told.

(beat)
You know what I mean, man? — I see it now, for real:
A threat dressed as ordinary is the kind they conceal.

PART IV — THE LESSON

[VERSE 9 — FUNKY G, the close]

So here’s the Brooklyn schoolin’ from a Bangkok stairwell:
When it don’t feel right, it don’t gotta be far-fetched to tell.
A headache in a new city, a stranger’s compressed air,
A truck where a truck shouldn’t be, a face that don’t care.

You move. You note the exit. You tell somebody that day.
You report it — hotel, station, embassy — the legal way.
’Cause half of travel’s safety, and the other half’s trust,
And you never breathe a cloud that you can’t name. No cap. ต้องระวัง.

[OUTRO — BOTH, beat fading]

BK to the Tower, one sky train to the sky,
One saw a volcano, one saw white clothes sly.
Check the exit, check the air, check the face, check the truck —
Asoke, Asoke — you don’t stay, you duck.

(fading)
You know what I mean, man…
…white clothes, grey dust. And I ain’t go back.

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